"I don't want to fight you. I mean your people no harm. I'm on a mission here."
"I don't beleive you!" The little man says.
"You don't want to fight me." You say.
"The hell I don't!" He says.
Gandalf's hoarse winnies loudly as Gandalf's eyes grow big.
The little man runs at you making jabs. You grab at the pitchfork by the blades and whirl him around. He falls to the ground. He gets back up.
"Stop coming at me!" You say.
"NEVUUUUHH!" He shouts before he jumps on you.
You fling him off. He falls to the ground with a thud.
You turn around and Gandalf is slowly getting off the carriage, perhaps to help. While you're still looking at him, you feel a fist land in your side. You turn around and put your palm in the little mans head.
"Stop coming at me or I'm gonna flatten your munchkin tookis!" You shout. You realize reasoning with him is not going to work.
With your palm on his head, he's too short to get you. He keeps swinging; he's angry. You give him a little nudge and he falls to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Suddenly, from the side, you feel a hot sharp jab of pain. You look down and see a knife resting in your side. The hand gripping the handle: Gandalfs.
He yanks it out of you sending a spurt of blood out, and then jabs it into your chest, then yanks it out quickly, slicing at your throat. You fall to your kneese, choking, and look up and Gandalf. He has a look of relief on his face. You were the enemy. You were terrorizer that he had to defend the town against.
As you fall down that day, dead, the lives of the people go on simply, remembering the day that Gandalf killed the horrible outlander.
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